


Happy

by phobo



Category: South Park
Genre: Bullying, Coming of Age, Explicit Language, F/M, Friendship/Love, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-06-11 00:04:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15303027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phobo/pseuds/phobo
Summary: The coming-of-age story of a 15-year-old, red-haired boy from a small mountain town in Colorado.





	1. The Confession

I just woke up, and I already wanted this day to be over. It was snowy and slushy and shitty outside and I was in no mood to go to school.

I had another reoccurring nightmare last night; it really freaked me the fuck out. There was this creepy figure in all white with no face holding me down in my bed, screaming "TAKE YOUR FUCKING MEDICINE" in my ear and holding a syringe at my neck. It happened to me like four times and every time I woke up in a cold sweat. The third time it happened, I was so fucking sick of it I got up and started doing jumping jacks until I literally had to collapse from exhaustion. That kind of fucked up shit has been happening to me a lot lately. No matter how much I try to block out my negative thoughts, they always manage to force themselves to the forefront of my mind.

I groaned at the sound of my alarm clock, slammed my hand on the off button, and trudged across the hall into the dimly lit bathroom. I turned on the bright ass fluorescent light and blinked at the tarnished medicine cabinet mirror, immediately regretting it as I did so. I looked like shit. I guess that was no surprise, 'cause that's exactly how I felt. My eyes were sunken in and gray like a ghost, but also bloodshot like a crackhead. My vision was blurry from just waking up, but I noticed all my fucking flaws right away—I gained some pimples overnight and their presence was magnified by the fact that my skin is as white as fucking death. My hair was a floppy red mess as usual, curls twisted and knotted every which way, but thankfully I had my obnoxious green ushanka hat to hide it. I fucking hate looking at myself, but especially my freckly, lanky, tall-but-not-tall-enough-to-play-basketball figure.

I looked down from the sad sight staring me down in the mirror and grabbed my toothbrush and toothpaste, making sure not to glance back up until I was finished brushing my teeth and out of the bathroom. The feeling of exhaustion was replaced with my usual high-functioning depression, so I managed to put on my clothes and tuck my hair into my hat without missing a beat. I quickly stepped into my shoes and sauntered down the stairs, trying my hardest to look as put together as possible for my parents, who seemed to be constantly worrying about pretty much everything.

"Good morning bubbe!" My mom hollered from the kitchen when she heard me come downstairs. She was making breakfast for my dad and my brother, who were already sitting at the table and staring mindlessly at their phones. "Hey, mom." The dreary tone in my voice probably hinted to her that I was completely fucking miserable.

As she turned from her cooking to glance over at me, I could see the look of concern slowly forming on her face. "Oh Kyle, you look horrible!"

Great, like I couldn't feel any _worse_ about myself. "I'm fine mom, I just didn't get a lot of sleep last night."

She hurried over to me and held my face in her hands, examining it. "It's all those damn video games, you play them so much that they're keeping you up at night! You better not let those grades slip bubbe, you're my smart little star!" She quickly leaned down to kiss my forehead. "You need to get into a good school so you can be a successful lawyer, just like your father!" She turned to shoot my dad a knowing glance, who looked up from his phone to wink at us in approval. 

"That's right Kyle, listen to your mother," he added as he looked back down at his phone.

I looked down at my worn, Walmart-brand sneakers and barked back like a trained dog. "I won't disappoint you guys, I promise."

My mom tilted my head back up so I could see her beaming smile. "We know you won't, sweetie."

I managed to offer her a phony smile and she finally let go of me. I grabbed a granola bar from the cabinet and a water bottle from the fridge and stuffed them into my backpack, which was hanging off one of the kitchen chairs. As I was just about to leave the house, my mom called me back. "Wait, Kyle!" She opened the fridge once again and pulled out a brown paper bag; it had "Kyle ☺" written on it in black marker. "I made you a special lunch today sweetie!"

"Oh, thanks mom." I turned on my heels to grab the bag from her hand as I added, "I wish I could stay for breakfast, but I don't wanna miss the bus."

She leaned down to give me a wet kiss on the cheek. "Don't worry about it hunny, there's always next time."

• • •

The snow was coming down hard on the walk to school. I really regretted not wearing my snow boots; they had a few holes in them but they would have worked a lot fucking better than these sneakers. My feet were pretty much drenched and I was hoping to God I wouldn't get hypothermia and break off a fucking toe.

As I neared the bus stop, I noticed that Stan, Kenny, and Cartman were already there. Hanging out at the bus stop was actually one of my favorite times of the day, honestly. It was one of the only times when I could hang out with my friends, whether we were talking or in silence, and just chill out for a little while. Stan is basically like a brother to me, and even though we don't hang out nearly as often as we used to, he still keeps me updated on everything that's going on in his life: the latest girl he's dating, his parents' imminent divorce, his high school football drama, and how badly he's doing in math. There's not a thing I _don't_ know about his life, to be honest. As far as Kenny goes, I suppose he's a bit more secretive. He's a definite lady's man and has no problem making it known, but when it comes to other aspects of his life, it's hard to get him to open up. His parents are pretty much deadbeats and ever since his older brother moved out, he's basically the sole caretaker to his younger sister, Karen.

Oh yeah, and Cartman. Well, his primary purpose in life is to just annoy the fuck out of me and make me miserable, so I honestly don't care what's going on in his life. I usually just tune him out whenever he starts talking. Our usual back-and-forths are still as prevalent as they ever were, it's just a lot harder to rile me up now that we're not kids anymore. I mean, I guess we are still kids—we're half-way through our first year of high school, but I dunno. With the shit I have to deal with on a daily basis, I feel like a fucking old man.

Sadly, Cartman is the first one to notice me out of the three; he turns his head to look at me and tilts his head to the side, giving me that serial killer vibe he normally does. "Well! If it isn't the neighborhood Jew, _Kyle_." God, I hate the way he says my name, it's so fucking grating.

"Shut up, fat boy," I retort unenthusiastically, although he's not nearly as fat as he used to be. The fat he used to have has mostly been replaced by muscle, and no matter how much I hate to admit it, I'm actually fucking jealous of that son of a bitch. I have such a small amount of both fat and muscle, so to have either would honestly be a blessing.

"Don't be an asshole, Cartman." Scoffing and shoving Cartman aside, Stan grabbed my hand and greeted me with a pat on the back. "Hey Kyle, you're just in time!" 

I chuckled at his enthusiasm and returned the greeting in acknowledgment. "It's gonna be a long day, dude. I already wanna go back to bed."

"No fucking way," Kenny countered, "you're such a nerd dude! You _live_ for school." Kenny hasn't worn his parka zipped up since we were kids, so it's much easier to hear him talk—although sometimes I wished he'd just cover up his stupid face. Wherever we go, girls are constantly gawking at him and whispering about how "beautiful" he is. I've always been jealous of Kenny's looks. He has perfectly clear skin, no freckles, and an unobtrusive ribcage, unlike me. He has the blond hair/blue eyes combo going on, which is something I've secretly envied about him since forever. Every week he's telling us about the latest girl he's fucked, and every week it makes my skin crawl. He doesn't give a shit about dating or being in a relationship, he just thinks with his dick. It makes me miserable to think about because I know for a fact that no girl would want to stare into my shitty green eyes, much less compliment them. No girl would want to run their hands through my frizzy, tangly red mop. No girl would want to be anywhere near my skinny ass naked body. And sure, Kenny might have his own problems to deal with, but _fuck,_ at least he has his looks going for him.

I rolled my eyes at his obtuse comment. "I don't live for school, _dude_. I wanna get into a good college, just like everybody else."

Kenny laughed at this assumption. "Ha, not me! I'll just be a stripper or something. Or maybe I'll find a rich old woman and be a sugar baby."

We all had to laugh at that comment, even though I'm pretty sure he wasn't kidding. Cartman chimed in, "That's totally weak dude, old ladies are nasty!"

Kenny winked at him suggestively. "Not if they give you free stuff!"

As the conversation continued, the bus pulled up to the sidewalk and we slowly gathered our belongings and stepped inside.

• • •

I swear, if I didn't have my sugar-free peach rings to keep me occupied, I would have passed out on my desk by now. They're my favorite candy, and I was relieved my mom packed them for me today. I love pulling them apart and feeling the sugary-substitute crunch between my teeth. Being the smartest kid in my Algebra class (and in my grade), I kind of have to stay awake to answer any and all of Mr. Garrison's questions, since I'm literally the only one with enough guts to raise my hand. Well actually, that's a lie—Wendy is pretty smart too. She never gets a wrong answer and she's always helping people who need the tutoring. In my opinion, she's fucking incredible. She's intelligent, she cares about everyone, she stands up for what she believes in, and she's fucking beautiful. Her long, black hair is so silky and shiny and she smells like vanilla and peaches. I've almost told her how I feel on multiple occasions, but then I remember that Stan—my best friend in the whole world—has an extremely long history with her, and I wouldn't risk that friendship for anything.

To be honest though, I'm kind of a sucker. There probably isn't a single girl I _haven't_ had a crush on at some point. I've gone on a couple dates over the past few years, but none of them have been too successful. It might be because I'm too insecure, or maybe I'm just too ugly. Or maybe I'm too nice—yeah, that's probably it. That saying "Nice guys finish last" couldn't apply to anyone more than it does to me.

Ever since I was with Leslie, who just ended up being a fucking sentient advertisement, I've been hyper-aware of the fact that none of my relationships have ever worked out. I truly believed that she loved me, and now whenever a girl gives me any sort of attention, I can't help but lose myself in them. And when it's done, I'm left with that same empty feeling I'm always left with, and there's nothing I can do to make it any better.

A couple of months ago, I went on a date with Bebe. I was amazed when she said yes because she's so obviously out of my league, but I let my excitement take over anyway. Since we're still too young to drive, my mom drove us to one of the fancier restaurants in Denver. I worked almost every day raking leaves for a couple weeks just to be able to pay for it. It was a nice night, we talked a lot, and everything seemed to be going great. We didn't kiss, but I didn't really mind because that's not why I go on dates. The thing was, she didn't tell me she wasn't interested until the next day at school. I went up to her and hugged her as if we were together, then she looked back awkwardly at her friends before pulling me aside and telling me how she really felt. I was fucking humiliated, to put it bluntly. I couldn't even say anything. I just watched her walk away as I fell to pieces inside. But as I do with everything else in my life, I internalized it. I never let anyone know that Bebe dumping me felt like a fucking knife to the chest.

"Kyle… Kyle… _KYLE!_ " I was awoken from my loathsome stupor by Mr. Garrison banging his hand on my desk and unintentionally spitting in my face. Well, so much for paying attention. "Are you back from space? Would you like to participate?" He was glaring at me so intently, he definitely could have burnt a hole into my skull if he continued.

"Oh, I'm sorry sir." I took a deep breath as I squinted up at the board. "Um… that looks like a quadratic equation, right? So you would use the quadratic formula to solve it. You'd substitute 2 for _a_ , -8 for _b_ , and -24 for _c_."

Mr. Garrison's expression changed quickly. "Well, that's absolutely right, Kyle! Now, can any of you other little assholes tell me the two answers you get from inputting the numbers?" He turned back around and started writing on the chalkboard. I hoped that meant he wasn't going to try and get any other answers out of me for the rest of the class.

I laid my head down on my desk, but not before looking across the room and sneaking a glance at Wendy, who was diligently doing her work.

• • •

There's always something crazy happening in the cafeteria at lunchtime. Kids are pushing each other out of the lunch line and everyone is trying to get a seat at one of the few tables that aren't broken. Luckily, me and the guys have a smaller, quieter table in the back that no one dares to try and take. As I plod towards the table, Stan, who I barely notice is standing in line for lunch, grabs me by the coat sleeve and drags me into line with him. 

"Hey dude, I saved you a spot," he whispers as he quickly looks down the lunch line, making sure no one saw his clever maneuver. 

I chuckle softly into my coat. "Don't worry dude, my mom made me a lunch for today. I'll stand with you, though."

Stan let out a sigh of relief. "Oh thank God, I was so bored. You sure you don't want anything? I don't mind buying you some chips or something." He gave me a small, assuring smile. I tried to smile back, but my self-loathing got the best of me when I realized that my best friend was more attractive than me, too. He's a football player, so he's pretty fit, and he's like the nicest person I've ever known. You'd think since I've known him all my life that I'd find some negative quality about him that bugs me, but nope. He's so fucking considerate and genuine, sometimes I just wanna shake him and scream "DO SOMETHING ANNOYING YOU PIECE OF SHIT!"

"I'm fine Stan, thanks though." I put on the most convincing smile I could possibly muster as I continued. "So, how're things with Red going?" 

He'd been dating Red on-and-off since October. I wasn't sure how I felt about the relationship; whenever Stan ends up with a girl, it always seems like he's doing it just because he's lonely. I wish he'd understand that he doesn't need to be with a girl to be happy. I tell him all the time about how he has so many other people who care about him, like his friends and family and football buddies, but he never listens to a word I say. Sometimes I think he complains to me just to hear himself talk, but I don't mind. I like being able to help Stan with his problems and forget about mine for a while.

He took a deep breath when he heard Red's name. "Ugh, dude, you have no _idea_ ," he exasperated as he rolled his eyes. "She's been stressing me the fuck out lately about the winter dance and my schoolwork and not spending enough time with her because of football. I'm just so sick of it." The contentment slowly fell from his face and a sullen look took its place. "Plus… my dad finally moved out today. It just doesn't seem real. And Red's not doing me any favors. Aren't girlfriends supposed to like, be there for you when you're going through some shit?"

As we neared the front of the lunch line, I gave him a firm pat on the back and I lowered my voice to a considerate whisper. "Dude, you don't need a girlfriend to make you feel better. You know I'm here for you, whatever you need." I wasn't much taller than him, but he looked up at me and a small, yet recognizable smile started to form on his face. 

"Thanks dude, that means a lot." He then turned to the cashier, paid for his food, and we strolled over to the lunch table at the far end of the cafeteria.

We were greeted by Kenny and Cartman, who were already sitting down and eating. Kenny gets his lunch for free, and Cartman always packs like three sandwiches and a full bag of Cheesy Poofs, because well, he's a fucking fat ass.

"Sup fags," Cartman mumbled without looking up from his sandwich. Kenny nodded at us, to which we returned the favor.

I sat down next to Stan and pulled out my lunch. It was kind of embarrassing that my mom still made my lunch every once in awhile, but I had to admit that she knew her shit. She packed me those peach rings (which I had already eaten more than half of), a peanut butter and banana sandwich, some sour cream and onion chips, and a red Gatorade. Plus I still had that granola bar from earlier—I figured I'd give it to Kenny later if he was still hungry.

Taking a bite of the pizza he just bought, Stan began to recall his latest football practice. "So you guys, the funniest thing happened at football last night. Craig's little sister came to watch our drills and she was ripping on him the entire time. She was all like, 'You fucking suck!' and 'You throw like a bitch!'" 

Cartman cackled like a hyena, allowing some of his nasty spit to shoot through the air. "Dude, that's fuckin' awesome! Craig is such an asshole."

Stan laughed to himself as he took a sip of milk, leaving a milk mustache above his lip. "I don't think she even knows anything about football, she just felt like being a dick. Craig was getting so pissed off, it was hilarious."

Kenny chuckled under his breath. "I wish I could have seen it. The dude deserves it."

I looked at all of them in semi-shock. "Hey guys, Craig's not that bad. I mean, we've never really been _best_ friends with him, but we don't have a right to make fun of him. I wouldn't want him to hear us talking about him, it might make him feel bad."

Cartman rolled his eyes at my mini-speech. "Of course you'd try and take the fucking high road, Kyle. It's a fuckin' joke. What, you wanna make out with Craig now? Is that it? Girls think you're fucking lame so now you're trying to fuck dudes?"

I paused, closed my eyes, and took a deep breath. Stan and Kenny were dead silent, probably avoiding getting involved. I didn't blame them.

"You know what," I started as I got up from my seat, "I'm done. I'm done with this retarded conversation. I'll see you guys later." I grabbed all my stuff and started to walk away from the table. I would say it was pretty mature of me to just walk away instead of starting an argument, but the truth was that I was just too fucking exhausted to raise my voice.

As I walked out of the cafeteria, I heard Cartman say something about "filthy Jew rats always avoiding confrontation", followed by a "SHUT UP CARTMAN!" from Kenny and a frantic "Kyle! KYLE!" from Stan.

I was fucking sick of getting pushed around, being made to think that my ideas weren't valid or good enough.

I quickly pulled out my phone, making sure no teachers were around to see it. I pulled up my messages and wrote out a text to Cartman. "Back of the school, 3 PM." I'd show him exactly how I fucking felt.

I was staring so intently at my phone, I forgot to look where I was going and ended up bumping into someone. "Oh, I'm sorr—"

"Watch where you're going, fuck face." I looked up to find staggering, muscly Clyde blocking my path. He was taller than me by at least a few inches and he was super beefy, too. He was on the football team _and_ the basketball team, a feat I could only dream of achieving. His red varsity jacket smelled like B.O. and he looked like he'd been sweating.

My face contorted as I tried to smile. "Sorry, Clyde. I haven't seen you in awhile." Why was I awkwardly trying to make conversation when all I wanted to do was be alone? Fucking idiot.

He shot me an underhanded smirk, making me wish I had just walked away. "Oh yeah, I'd be seeing you a lot more if you had tried out for the basketball team. What happened to that?"

I froze up and my hands went icy cold. Cartman calling me gay is one thing, but there are some lines you just shouldn't cross with me. I looked down and started fiddling with my clammy fingers. "Uh actually, I did try out. I, uh… didn't make the cut."

"That's right, I remember hearing something about that!" His voice was loud and obnoxious and his expression was wildly sarcastic. "Well, good luck next year, right champ?" He nudged me aside and patted me on the shoulder as he walked towards the cafeteria. Who did he think he was, talking to me like I was a fucking toddler?

I didn't look back at him. I'm sure he would have something else clever to say, or maybe he'd wink at me arrogantly. I didn't want to know. I just looked down at the floor and tried as hard as I could to keep tears from welling up in my eyes.

I was done with today. I just wanted to go home. But I needed to talk to Cartman first.

• • •

Finally, the school day was over. During my last class, Stan rushed up to me and asked if I was okay after what happened at lunch—I made damn sure he believed I was fine. I saw Wendy walking down the hall between lunch and last period, but I don't think she noticed me. And of course, with Clyde being pretty easy to spot, you can bet your ass I didn't bump into him twice; I didn't wanna relive that humility over again.

I was hoping that by the time school was over, the temperature would have raised considerably and I wouldn't have to zip my coat up all the way to my chin, but nope. I guess I can't even have nice weather on this shitty day. The wind wasn't biting at my skin like it had been earlier, but I knew the walk home wasn't going to be pleasant, considering I was probably going to lose a foot in the process.

I walked around to the back of the massive building, and lo and behold, there was Cartman, just like I'd expected him to be. He never replied to my text, but I knew he would show up. Cartman never backs down from a confrontation—not because he's tough, but because he has an unbelievably enormous ego.

To my surprise, he was smoking a cigarette, which is something I've never seen him do. Where the hell did he get cigarettes from, anyway? He took a puff and glanced over at me nonchalantly, probably trying to diffuse the situation before it got ugly. "Oh, hey Kyle." He took out his pack of Parliaments and offered one to me.

I shook my head. "Nah, I don't smoke."

He scoffed at me in criticism. "Suit yourself, Jew."

We stood there for a few minutes in complete silence until he finished his cigarette, and I can honestly say that out of all of the things that happened today, this moment was by far the weirdest. When he was done, he threw the cigarette butt on the ground and stomped it out. He sighed loudly, which was basically his way of indicating that he was also sick of the awkward silence, as he said, "So, what's this about? Did you come here to fuck me up? Or to lecture me about my homophobia?"

His laughable line of questioning almost put a sincere smile on my face. Almost. "No, that's not it." My voice was as monotonous as it was soft. I quietly hoped he was listening hard enough to what I was about to say, as my voice could have very easily gotten lost in the wind.

"Cartman, I decided that I'm gonna kill myself."


	2. The Hearth

"Good one, asshole. But seriously." Cartman remarked as he pulled out another cigarette from his jacket pocket. I didn't expect him to believe me, but I guess that's the reason I wanted to tell him in the first place.

Once it was all out in the open, I was able to catch my breath and speak up without that nagging anxiety weighing me down. "I _am_ being serious, you retard." I glared daggers at him until he decided to stop looking at the fucking sky and acknowledge me.

He took his newly lit cigarette out of his mouth, puffed out some smoke and closed his eyes for a second, as if he was actually thinking about something for once in his goddamn life. I just hoped to God he wasn't searching for empathy in that hollow heart of his.

"Okay," he started, flicking his cigarette as he did so, "if you were _really_ 'gonna kill yourself'," he air-quoted for effect, "first of all, why the fuck would you be telling me?"

I don't know why I was so stupid to think that I could tell Cartman my deepest, darkest secret and have him _not_ question me about it. I was already regretting it. 

" _Because_." I said matter-of-factly, rolling my eyes in distaste. "Because… I know you don't give a shit. I'm not looking for fucking help, I just felt like someone needed to know before I… _did_ it."

Cartman turned his head and raised his eyebrow at me, suddenly suspicious. "Oh yeah? And when were you planning on doing _it_?"

I looked down at the ground as the snow began to accumulate on the tops of my shitty shoes. My feet were numb but I didn't care. I just wanted this uncomfortable conversation to end. "Tomorrow night. My parents will be out of town to visit my grandparents, and my brother is supposed to be staying at a friend's house. My dad… has a gun that he keeps locked in a safe in the garage. Last year, he gave me the passcode in case anything happens and he's not around to protect us. I've been thinking about killing myself since then, I think." The words just poured out of me, like I've been waiting to tell someone this entire time. Too bad Cartman's an asshole and probably wasn't even paying attention.

As he took another drag of his cigarette and flicked off the ashes, his eyes followed them as they fell and disappeared into the pure white snow. "Well, I guess I don't blame you. You can't help that you were born such an abomination—I'm referring to the fact that you are both a ginger and a Jew, of course."

My face started to heat up with frustration and all my anxieties dissipated. "Now listen here, you fat piece of shit! It has nothing to do with my faith or where I come from!"

He looked back up at me questioningly and tossed his burnt up cigarette butt aside. "Then what is it?"

All I wanted to fucking do was just tell him and get it over with. I didn't think he'd be so curious. Wouldn't he, of _all_ people, be the one to just tell me to do it?

"Argh," I mumbled under my breath, "it's none of your fucking business."

Cartman breathed a long, raspy sigh in my direction. The stench of cigarette smoke made my nose crinkle up. " _Kyle_ , cut the fucking bull crap. I know you wanna get it all off your chest before you blow your brains out, so just spill it, you asshole."

I didn't want to admit it, but he was right. I did want to tell someone, but at this point, I was kinda just wishing it wasn't him.

"Okay fine. I guess, there's a lot of reasons why I wanna do it. I fucking hate myself 'cause I'm ugly and can't get a girlfriend to save my life. I'm basically Stan's therapist even though my life is more of a fucking mess than his, and no matter what I say or do, I can't stop him from making the same fucking mistakes that make him so unhappy. My parents expect so much of me; they wanna see me go to college and be a lawyer and I just don't wanna fucking do that. What I _really_ want, is to be a basketball player. But I'm not good enough and I'll never be good enough. I'm not good enough for my friends, my parents, basketball, Wendy—" Oh god. What the fuck did I just say? "Ah! Um, actually, never mind that last part." I started to panic inside and my body felt hot even though the temperature was almost below freezing.

I was beyond thankful that when Cartman opened his mouth to speak, he was courteous enough to ignore my embarrassing slip up. Maybe he had some social graces after all. "Hmm… yeah, I guess I can see why you'd wanna do it." Really? He wasn't gonna rip on me for just confessing my love for Wendy Testaburger, or for the fact that I just told him every single one of my insecurities? Who is this dude and what the fuck has he done with Eric Cartman?

I lowered my head and quieted my voice, almost to the point where it couldn't be heard. "You're… not gonna tell anyone, right?" God, I really really fucking hoped he wouldn't tell anyone. I wasn't looking forward to being ripped on tomorrow by the entire fucking school with Cartman incessantly laughing in the background. 

Although, maybe it wouldn't be so bad. If I do get ripped on and then I go home tomorrow and blow my head off, they'll all feel horrible. They'll go to my funeral and they'll cry about how they should have treated me better. Yeah, I'd really like to see that.

"No Kyle, I'm not gonna tell anyone." He turned his back to me, in the direction of his house. "You asshole, you made me miss the bus. Now I'm gonna have to walk home."

I smirked at this remark. "Sorry. We're done here. You can go home now."

He raised a hand to his face and wiped something off his cheek, presumably a snowflake. I hadn't realized it until now, but it was actually snowing pretty hard. 

"Thank fucking God," he spoke, still with his back turned to me, "You were boring the crap out of me, you damn Jew. Well, I'll see you tomorrow I guess." He waved goodbye as he began his trek through the blizzard, quickly disappearing and blending into the storm.

Even though he wasn't looking and I couldn't see him, I waved goodbye to him anyway.

"Yeah, see ya."

• • •

I wished I had something more exciting going on after school than going home to eat dinner and watch a movie with my parents. My mom called me on the walk home to make sure I was okay, I told her I had missed the bus but that I would be home soon. She almost had an aneurysm, demanding me to tell her where I was so that she could come pick me up. "Oh my little bubbe! It's much too cold for you to be walking out in the snow," I remember her saying. I rebutted and told her I was perfectly fine to walk home, even though the combination of snow and wind kept pushing me backwards and I was pretty sure my toes were frostbitten by now. Finally, she backed off, but not without first letting me know that she wanted to have a "family night" tonight, which almost always consists of lame movies and lots of food. The food part wasn't so bad; I knew how lucky I was to have parents who actually cook for me. I just wished I was doing something fun with Stan tonight, since the dude literally always knows how to magically cheer me up when I'm feeling like crap. But I knew he was probably going over Red's house tonight, so I didn't even bother asking. Whenever he's in a relationship, I see him less and less until someone gets dumped. I've come to terms with it, but that doesn't make it any less painful.

I unlocked my front door and the door swung open, letting a burst of cold air into the warmth of my living room. My mom, dad, and little brother were already all present—my dad and Ike sitting on the couch watching some TV, and my mom in the kitchen cooking up a storm as always. All three of them shot up in attention at the sound of the slamming door. "Ay, watch it!" Ike hollered at me as he leaned over the back of the couch to grab the fleece blanket hanging up on one of the dining chairs.

"Sorry, Ike. It's crazy out there today," I uttered as I took off my soaking wet jacket and shoes.

"Oh Kyle, you must be freezing!" My mom gushed as she grabbed another blanket from the closet, similar to the one Ike was draped in. She quickly hurried over to me and wrapped the blanket around my shoulders. She hugged some heat into me as she said, "Dinner will be ready in just a while, boys!"

"Yeah Kyle, come here and chat with your old man!" My dad enthused, glancing over at me from his perch on our comfy leather couch. My mom took that as a cue to let go of me and return to her work in the kitchen. It seemed as though I didn't have a choice but to converse with my dad, so I opted to sit in the La-Z-Boy recliner that was next to Ike; I thought it was more comfortable than the couch anyway.

Ike was staring blankly at the TV screen, which pictured a newscaster delivering the daily weather forecast for the next seven days. Poor kid, how long had my dad been forcing him to suffer through this shit? He clearly wanted to be here even less than I did. Unlike me, Ike was actually extremely popular at school and had plenty of friends he could have been hanging out with—despite the fact that he only just turned 10.

"So Kyle, how was school today?" My dad spoke, lowering the volume on the TV and turning to me in attention.

"Uh, it was good dad. Still haven't missed an assignment yet," I retorted dryly.

"That's my boy! You're well on your way to being a great lawyer! Have you been reading that LSAT book I gave you? That'll give you a leg up on the competition for sure!" He beamed excitedly at me. God, I never see my dad more enthusiastic than when he's talking to me about law school. I don't think I could ever break it to him that I don't even want to _go_ to law school.

"Um, not yet dad!" I straightened my posture out of respect for my poor, ignorant father. "I've had a lot of school work lately. After all, I am in mostly advanced placement classes. You know how it is." Wow, nice save.

He clasped his hands together and nodded his head in agreement. "Of course of course, totally understandable! Well, maybe during winter break you could pick it up—I'm sure you'll have lots of questions!"

I gave him an assuring smile. I'll admit, my dad can be an idiot sometimes, but it would be wrong of me to voice my opinion on the matter. All my dad really wanted was for me and Ike to look up to him, like he's a superhero or something—I wanted him to keep believing that he was, for as long as I could keep up this charade. "I know I will dad, it would be awesome to talk about it with you."

He grinned at me with delight. "That's what I like to hear, son."

"Oh boys! Dinner is ready!"

The three of us turned around to see the dinner table covered with a tasty looking spread: herb and lemon roasted chicken, peas and onions, brown sugar glazed carrots, and of course, mom's famous freshly baked challah. Funny, she only ever makes challah on special occasions because she knows it's my favorite—I wonder what's so special about today?

• • • 

Dinner was delicious, per usual. In a way, I kinda treated it as a last meal—like the kind prisoners get when they're put on death row. So basically, I stuffed myself until I thought I was going to explode. I honestly wouldn't have wanted anything else for my last dinner with my family.

After dinner, my mom made us watch a dumb movie, the premise of which made the rest of us groan in discontent—The Edge of Seventeen. She loves those gay coming-of-age movies where the main character is a better person at the end than they were in the beginning; she's always trying to get us to learn life lessons. I just thought the movie was lame as hell, to be honest. The main character was suicidal, but she was such a selfish bitch and had no regard for other people's feelings until she realized towards the end that she was fucking up everybody's lives, so it was really hard to feel any sympathy for her. It wasn't much of a movie to me, but my dad (and even Ike) ended up enjoying it; I can't see why.

Once the movie was over I quickly headed up to my room to do some studying. Call me a nerd all you want, but studying is the one constant thing in my life—it helps me relax more than anything else. If I'm studying, it means I'm in control. My straight As are proof of that control.

Just as I was getting comfy in my bed with my algebra book in my lap, there was a soft tap on my bedroom door. I huffed in frustration, but allowed the person on the other side clearance anyhow. "Come in!"

It was my mom who had knocked on my door. She looked down at my snug figure and smiled at me with fondness. "Hi hunny, I just came in to say goodnight. Did you like the movie?" She tiptoed over and sat at the edge of my bed. Considering it was probably around 9 PM, she still looked as put together as ever—her giant mass of hair was up in a tight red bun, and her bright red lipstick looked like it was freshly applied. I looked more like my mom than my dad—not only did I have my mom's hair, but she had green eyes like me, too. I liked her eyes better, though; they were soft and always comforting.

"Yeah, it was pretty good. I was just about to do some studying." I looked down at the book that was resting in my hands.

She looked me up and down, the smile never leaving her face. "I can see that sweetie. Well, I won't bother you for too long. I just wanted to see how you were doing… You've been feeling okay, bubbe?" Her eyes welled up with concern. Oh jeez, I hate it when she looks at me like that. It makes me feel so guilty.

"Uh, yeah mom I've been fine. It's just… school's been hard. Sometimes it's hard for me to focus." That was the furthest thing from the truth.

"Oh really? And why might that be?" She pursed her lips together in amusement as she spoke. "Do you have a girlfriend at school? Were you tired this morning because you've been sneakin' out to see her?" She giggled and nudged my shoulder as she observed my reaction.

"What?! No, I don't have a girlfriend!" She could definitely tell I was flustered by the line of questioning. My face felt like it was on fire. " _Mom_ , I really do need to get back to studying." I hoped she could hear the tinge of annoyance in my voice.

Once she was done laughing to herself, she took a deep breath to calm herself down. "I know Kyle, can't a mom make a joke every once in a while?" She took her hand, which was resting in her lap, and placed it on my head. I really didn't like it when other people touched my hair, but I guess my mom had to be the exception. She was gonna do it whether I wanted her to or not.

"I just want to be closer to you, sweetie. I feel like we just don't spend enough time together anymore, you know?" She stared at me lovingly with those gentle green eyes of hers. I nodded slowly in understanding. "I think," she continued, "we should try to do a big family dinner at least once a week. What do you think? You and Ike can tell me all about what's going on at school, and I'll make my homemade challah. How does that sound?"

I was almost at a loss for words. What was this pain in my chest? "Yeah mom, that sounds like a great idea."

Her eyes lit up and her lips broke into a joyous smile. "It's settled then, same time next week." She got up from my bed and the wooden frame creaked beneath her. As she opened the door to let herself out, she looked back at me for a lingering moment. "Goodnight, bubbe. Get some rest tonight, okay?"

"Okay mom, I will. Goodnight."

She closed the door as quietly as humanly possible, and suddenly it was dead silent.

For some reason, I didn't feel like studying anymore. There was an aching in my chest and I just wanted it to go away. So I turned off the lamp on the nightstand, set my Algebra book down on the ground and laid my head down for the night. It might have just been my imagination, but I could have sworn I felt tears rolling down my cheeks.


	3. The Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I am SO happy that I've finally been able to work on this! Word to the wise: the way the chapter ends, it SOUNDS like it's the end of the story, but it is NOT! I promise you Kyle still has plenty of growing to do, he's not out of the woods yet! I hope you guys enjoy this because I spent the past two and a half days working my butt off! As always, trigger warnings apply, so beware!

Surprisingly enough, when I woke up the next morning my eyes were dry. I didn't have a pit in my stomach anymore. In fact, I felt pretty fucking fantastic. I think it was the first time in a long time that I was actually able to sleep through the whole night; I don't even remember having any nightmares.

I woke up naturally, which was a first for me. When I realized I was conscious, my eyes sprung open and I jumped to look at my alarm clock. I sighed in relief when I saw the clock read 6:15 AM, five minutes before my alarm was supposed to go off and plenty of time to get ready for the day. I shut the alarm off so I wouldn't have to hear it later.

I turned to my window and noticed that the blinds were open, so I assumed that's why I woke up as early as I did. I don't know why, but I decided to look outside. Today was clearly warmer than yesterday—the sun was shining, there wasn't a cloud in the sky and the frost from yesterday's storm was melting fast. It looked like I'd only be needing a light hoodie for today.

I got ready in 10 minutes, which was pretty quick for me. I didn't try to rush or anything, I just felt a lot lighter on my feet. As I bounced down the stairs with my backpack in tow, I was greeted by the smell of french toast wafting through the air, causing my stomach to gurgle with desire. Well fuck, I had some time so I figured I'd stay and eat. I put my bag down next to one of the dining room chairs and took a seat next to Ike and across from my dad, who were engaging in an intense discussion about Minecraft. Once I took my seat, they looked over and acknowledged me.

"Good morning guys," I said with slightly too much enthusiasm for my liking.

"Morning buddy! Ready to take on the day?" My dad enthused, downing his coffee like his life depended on it.

I pursed my lips together in thought for a moment, and the answer quickly and easily slipped from my throat: " _Yeah_." After all, I got a good night's sleep, the sun was shining and I was having a hearty breakfast for once. A befitting morning for the day of my death.

I decided at that moment that if this was my last day on Earth, I was going to eat french toast and I was going to fucking savor it. My mom waltz into the dining room with a stack of plates in one hand and a stack of pancakes in the other, carrying her heavy load waitress-style.

"Good morning Kyle, I hope you slept well my little bubbe! I'm _so_ happy you're having breakfast with us!" When my mom was really happy, her voice had a tendency to carry like that of a songbird's. It warmed me up and even made me smile, but I guess that's just how moms are supposed to make you feel.

"Me too, mom." I shot her a bright, fake-looking-but-not-actually-fake smile before proceeding to shovel an ungodly amount of french toast into my mouth, using the maple syrup on the table to wash it down.

We didn't do a whole lot of talking after that, which was truly a blessing. My family has a tendency to be very loud whenever we're all together, so starting the morning off with a quiet breakfast was just the icing on the cake for me.

After breakfast, as I gathered my things and headed for the door, my mom made sure to give me a particularly long hug and kiss before zipping my lunch bag into my backpack and waving goodbye.

• • •

The walk to the bus stop was surprisingly pleasant. Soggy as hell, but pleasant nonetheless. The snow was melting from the trees and the houses and I could feel my feet getting wetter with each step, but for some reason, I didn't even mind.

The temperature had raised considerably and the sun was shining brighter than ever. I was honestly debating taking off my hoodie— _that's_ how warm it was. South Park having a warm day in the midst of winter was an extremely rare occurrence.

As I got closer to the bus stop, I started to notice another figure down the road who also seemed to be heading towards my destination. I squinted down the sidewalk to figure out who it was, deducting by the red pom-pom on his head that it was Stan. I could recognize that hat from a fucking mile away. I would never admit it, but the sight of that damn pom-pom actually made my legs work a little harder to get there.

"Hey dude!" I was the first to speak, uncharacteristically waving at him as I stopped in front of the old yellow sign. When I stopped, I noticed I was a little out of breath. Damn, I really wanted to see him that badly?

"Kyle, you're here early!" I could tell by his voice that he was equally happy we had some alone time. "Good thing too, I wanted to ask you something!"

I tilted my head inquisitively. It was probably something about Red. "Yeah Stan, what's up?"

"Well…" he started, as if he wasn't sure what he was going to say or how he was going to say it. "I decided not to go to football practice tonight. I was wondering… if you'd wanna come over and play video games or something instead!"

"Yeah dude, that sounds awesome!"

I gushed excitedly like a small child, without even a single thought. It wasn't until milliseconds later when I realized my horrible mistake. I immediately sunk back into myself and my heart dropped into my stomach. I couldn't change my mind after that display, could I?

My plan for tonight wasn't to go to Stan's house and play fucking Xbox. My plan for tonight was to say goodbye to pain, goodbye to loneliness, goodbye to life.

"Uh, wait—" the tone of my voice was slightly exasperated, but I doubted he'd notice. "Why are you skipping football tonight? Won't coach be pissed?"

Stan, showing no indication that he was aware of the switch that just flipped in my brain, shrugged his shoulders and exhaled loudly. "Eh, who cares? Friends are more important than football. I wanna hang out with you, dude. It's been so long. It's about damn time I started freeing up my schedule for the stuff that really matters in my life, you know?" He smiled and I could saw a knowing look in his eyes. What it is that he knew, I had no clue. All I knew what that his eyes were staring into my soul and it made me extremely uncomfortable.

I knew I couldn't keep badgering him about it. Of course, I wanted to see him, but at this point I felt like it was too little, too late. He had his chance to be the friend he should have been, but now… at a time like this…

I forced myself to smile. Whether I liked it or not, I just made the decision to fuck up my entire plan and spend the night with Stan instead. I should have been excited, but I was actually dying inside. I took a big gulp before sounding out my next phrase.

"Yeah dude, I'm really proud of you."

As the conversation conveniently came to an end, Kenny and Cartman found their way to the bus stop. Kenny was the first to vocalize his presence, his positive demeanor and shaggy blond hair clearly visible and on display. "Hey guys, what's going on?!" His white teeth almost reflected off the sun as he high-fived us both. His smile was particularly infectious today and his good mood helped get me out of my momentary funk.

Cartman was only a few feet behind him. His eyes were half-lidded, tired and unenthusiastic but he took the effort to look me up and down as if he were inspecting something. "Hey Jew."

I glared at him suspiciously. I wasn't sure what I was going to be walking into at school today, but I almost found myself praying he didn't tell everyone my deep dark secret. My anxiety wanted to swell, but I didn't let it. I buried that shit deep down and put on a tough face for that son of a bitch.

"Hey fatass." I didn't have anything witty to say, and thankfully neither did he. He didn't have that evil look in his eyes that he usually does. More than that, though, he seemed really… calm. Sure, he was tired, but I've seen Cartman tired before. It was nothing compared to the solemnness that he currently embodied. I wondered why that was.

The wait for the bus was a fairly quiet one, thanks to Cartman's change in behavior. No one questioned it, but I think it was just because it's not every day you get some peace and quiet with Cartman around. Kenny lit up like a lightbulb and briefly gave us the scoop about this new girl he was really into, and how he thinks it "might be love", which actually made me really happy for him.

Before we knew it, we were on the school bus and whisked away to school, where I would nervously await my fate.

• • •

Since I was able to get a good nights sleep after what felt like an eternity of sleepless nights, I was able to actually pay attention in class. Only about half the class was there today, probably because of the refreshingly nice weather. Wendy was still there though—as if I expected her to be anywhere else. She was as studious and as beautiful as ever. Her flowing black hair and large pink beret shielded her face from my view, but I'd prefer it that way anyway. I always had to keep myself from staring at her for too long; I didn't want to freak her out and make her think I was a weirdo. If she ever caught me, I'd never be able to live it down.

Mr. Garrison's voice penetrated my ears once more, and I looked back down at my notebook to make sure I had written down the equation properly. I heard him quickly jotting something down on the blackboard, forcing my head back up to see what it was. I was about to turn my head back down to transcribe what my teacher had just written, but out of the corner of my left eye, I noticed something peculiar. Something looked out of the ordinary, and my anxiety was nagging me to turn my head just a little bit more to see exactly what it was. Safe to say, I regretted the decision almost immediately.

The first thing I noticed, above all else, were those sparkling eyes of hazel that could kill a man if she wished. Next, my vision moved to the familiarity of her long, dark strands of hair, framing her face and body like a work of art. And finally, the thing that gave me goosebumps and made every hair on my body stand on end, was that smile. That smooth, shiny, succulent smile. The smile that was directed at me.

Wendy Testaburger was staring at me. She was turned in her seat, cheek resting on her well-manicured hand, with eyes that could burn through steel.

Is it possible to feel ice cold and uncomfortably warm all at the same time? If so, that's exactly how I was feeling. I knew my face was a red hot mess; I basically had "anxiety" written on my forehead. When I realized I was staring back, I hastily turned my head down and started scribbling on my paper. I hardly cared if I ruined my notes.

Even though it was blatantly obvious how much of a nervous wreck I was, it didn't seem to matter to her. I would occasionally direct my peripheral vision in her direction, and every time I did, her face was all I could see. I wasn't sure what was going on, but it was confusing the crap out of me.

Once the bell rang, I made a quick attempt to gather up my things. Unluckily for me, I'm too clumsy for my own good—I dropped the same pen on the floor at least three times, and I kept trying to put my binders in my bag sideways, like a fucking idiot. The task was getting to be so difficult that it was starting to make me sweat.

"Hi Kyle."

I pressed my eyes together and took a long, deep breath. I'd know that sweet voice from anywhere. I turned away from the task at hand to find Wendy standing in front of my desk. Her hands were clasped behind her and she still had that glowing smile on. I tried my hardest to put on a brave face, but I couldn't help the shaking in my voice.

"Oh! U-um, hi Wendy! W-what's u-up?" I was trying hard to make eye contact but it wasn't working out so well; I looked past her small figure in spite of myself.

"Not much. Word on the street is you're in need of a tutor!" Her eyes lit up and she pumped her fist gently. 'Word on the street?' What the hell was she talking about? 

I paused and shot her a curious glance, which I guess gave her the cue to continue. "Well ya see, I don't mean to brag, but I do have a lengthy resume when it comes to tutoring! Especially with math! If you let me, I'd love to help! And I wouldn't charge you, of course!" She began playing with one of her dark locks, and her smile was glistening up at me like sunbeams. How the hell was she so peppy all the time? It was because she was incredible, that's why.

Throwing caution to the wind, I figured I'd go with it. I'm not sure where on Earth she got this inaccurate information about me, but if Wendy believing I need help with math means she'll give me even a second of her time, I'll take it.

"That… sounds great, Wendy." I gave her a weak smile. I hope she could tell I meant it.

She yelped with joy, and it made my heart skip a beat. "Oh yay! Alright, here's my number!" She pulled a small piece of paper from behind her back and offered it to me. I took it gladly, even though my hand shook as I did so. "You just text me with a date and time and I'll be there, okay?"

• • •

I was starting to get extremely suspicious about my good fortune today. If I wasn't on the brink of suicide, I'd say that it was a good thing. But I made a mental note to keep reminding myself that just because I'm having an okay day, doesn't mean the rest of my _life_ will be any better. My life as a whole was still pretty shitty. I was still expected to be someone I didn't want to be. I still had to give up all my hopes and dreams if I wanted to amount to anything. I still couldn't stand looking at myself in the mirror. Everyone around me was still blind to the pain I was going through.

Suddenly, I was thrust out of my stupor by the sound of a metal tray shaking the lunch table. My head was down and my eyes were closed, but I knew right away that it was Stan and his lunch. My eyes slowly slid open and I offered him a smile. "Hey Stan."

Stan was as chipper as ever, which nowadays is a rarity. "Hey dude, I'm excited to kick your ass in Call of Duty later." He nudged me jokingly and quickly shoved half of a slice of pizza into his mouth.

My lip quivered slightly and I looked down into my lap, half out of pity for him and half out of disgust for myself. So that's why he was so happy.

I took in a short but deep breath, pumping myself with fake energy and lifting my head up to protest. "Psh, yeah right dude, you know I'll wipe the floor with you." I sounded happy, but not overly excited like he was. Regardless, my comment made him chuckle. And when Stan laughs, I laugh. It was kind of funny, actually; things were starting to feel normal between us again.

We were having such a blast ripping on each other, we barely even noticed Cartman place himself and his giant lunchbox right in front of us. We were only reminded of his existence once he opened his mouth to speak.

"Hey you fucking gaywads, get a room!" Loud and obnoxious Cartman was back, it seemed.

Stan rolled his eyes in aggravation. "Shut up, fat boy. You sucked Butters' dick when we were 9." I had to laugh at that comment.

Cartman's face turned red in embarrassment; I almost thought his cheeks were going to explode. "You shut the fuck up Stan! I'll fucking kill you!" He sneered through his teeth before turning to me. "You too, Jew rat!"

It took me a moment to stifle my laughter. "Sorry, sorry! I couldn't help it…" He _did_ keep my secret (or at least that's what I hoped), I guess I should at least be nice to him for today.

As the three of us settled down, I noticed someone was still missing. I looked back up at Cartman questioningly. "Oh hey, where's Kenny? I brought some extra food for him today."

Cartman rolled his eyes, either annoyed over the conversation topic or the fact that I pulled him away from his precious turkey sandwich. It turned out to be the former. "He skipped lunch so he could go and see his new girlfriend, fucking asshole. All he cares about nowadays is poon."

I shrugged, not really viewing the situation as a problem at all. "I mean, maybe it's real this time. I've never seen him care about a girl this much."

Cartman sighed in frustration. " _Kyle_ , I know you don't get it because you're like a super virgin or whatever, but chicks will ruin your life, dude. They make you do things you wouldn't normally do, like Kenny being a love-sick idiot."

Stan reluctantly nodded his head in agreement. "Sorry Kyle, but I guess I have to agree with Cartman on this one. Kenny's probably just going through a phase with this girl."

I didn't even care that Cartman called me a super virgin and Stan didn't agree with me. I smiled anyway, partially out of spite. "Well, whatever the reason, I'm just glad Kenny is happy."

We continued to chat a little bit more about Kenny, then about football, then about Red (of course), until a tall, muscular figure stalked over to our table. He basically slammed his hands down on the tabletop to get our attention, and we all quickly turned our heads in his direction. I heaved at the sight that was towering over me: it was none other than Clyde, looking smug as always. Just when I thought my day was going well.

Stan was the first to speak up. "Hey Clyde, what's going on?" They were football buddies, so naturally they got along well and had a decent friendship.

Clyde lowered himself and bounced on his knees so he was at eye-level with us. "Not much bro. Heard you can't make it to football tonight?" He inquired, raising his left brow as he did so.

Stan shook his head. "No can do. My mom needs my help around the house tonight, you know how it is." Even though he lied to Clyde, I still felt pretty special that he was willing to skip practice for me. I tried to ignore the happiness welling up in my chest.

Clyde nodded in understanding. "Been there, got you dude." Now that I thought about it, I guess they had more in common now than ever before, considering Clyde's mom died when we were kids and he's always had the burden of doing extra work for his dad. Stan and his dad have always had a strained relationship—to be honest, I always thought he was fucking crazy. But now he's gone and Stan's not even sure when he's ever gonna see him again. I guess it _is_ pretty sad.

Then, surprisingly enough, Clyde decided to turn his meaty-ass head in my direction and narrow his eyes at me. I froze, as if I was expecting to get punched in the jaw. "Yo Kyle, me and the guys are gonna have a little basketball tourney this weekend. You should come." I could tell by the seriousness in his voice that he wasn't trying to fuck with me.

I blinked at him for a second, like that would help affirm that I heard him correctly. "Uhh yeah sure! Thanks man!" I sounded a bit more eager than I would have liked. I hated to admit it, but I've always wanted to play basketball with Clyde and his friends, the best of the best in South Park. Even though Clyde was an asshole to me sometimes, the truth was that I envied him; I wanted to _be_ like him.

He shot me a clever smile, stood up, and turned around on his heels without saying another word. The guys gave me some curious glances, but they didn't question the exchange they just witnessed.

Thankfully, Clyde's departure was marked by the ringing of the bell. Instinctually, we gathered all of our things, said goodbye, and headed to our respective classes.

• • •

First it was Stan. Then it was Wendy. And finally, Clyde. Now that I finally had a chance to catch my breath and put the pieces together, things were starting to seem _extremely_ suspicious, and I think I knew just who the perpetrator was. Maybe Cartman _did_ tell people I was going to kill myself after all, but only a select few. What for? What good would that do? Maybe he wanted people to take pity on me because he knows I would absolutely hate it. That must be it. The only thing he would ever do with the information I gave him is torture me, so it's really no surprise.

The thought of Cartman using this information to make my life even more miserable filled me with unbelievable rage. I wanted to fucking destroy him. I knew exactly what I wanted to do, I just needed to find the right time to do it.

It was 10 minutes until the end of school and everyone had already gathered their belongings from their lockers. Everyone seemed to be chit-chatting and congesting the hallways, except for one particular fat ass who seemed to be nowhere in sight… and I knew exactly where to find him.

I threw my body against the double doors leading to the back of the school, feeling the slightly chilly air tighten my skin. I allowed the doors to slam behind me, just to let him know he wasn't alone out here. The schoolyard was muddy, but I didn't care, I trudged through that shit anyway.

I rounded the corner of the brick building to find him standing there, the same place he stood yesterday, smoking another goddamn cigarette. He didn't even care that I might be a teacher or even the principal and that he could get suspended for smoking while he was still in school. Here he was, puffing away without a care in the world. He didn't even look to see who had followed him out here. Maybe it was because he already knew.

"You know those things will fucking kill you, right?" My voice was dripping with venom and he'd be an idiot to not notice.

"Yeah, but slowly." He closed his eyes and took another drag.

It pissed me off to see him so relaxed. I wanted to see some pain in that son of a bitch. My heart was burning with the desire to just fucking break his nose. Or his hand. Or any bone in his body, for that matter.

"You're a fucking piece of shit, you know that? You really know how to stir the fucking pot." I hissed through my teeth, wishing that looks could kill so I could be done with him forever.

Fucking finally, he turned his head towards me. Plastered on his face was the most placid look I've ever fucking seen. "What are you talking about?"

I inhaled through my nose and my chest heaved in anger. "Don't be a fucking smart ass!" I barreled over to him and shoved him up against the brick wall. He accidentally dropped the lit cigarette in his hand and I watched it fall into the mud out of the corner of my eye.

For one moment, I think I almost startled him, but it was probably just because of the cigarette. I glared daggers up at him. "I know you told them!"

I could tell he almost wanted to smile, but he fought back the urge. Instead, he rolled his eyes and barked back at me. "I don't know what the fuck you're talking about Kyle. Haven't I heard enough of your gay ass problems already? Fucking pussy."

I pursed my lips together. I wanted to ball my hand into a fist and clobber the motherfucker, but I knew that wouldn't help me get my answers. "Just… _please_." I sounded like I was begging, but it was because I was desperate and upset and confused as all hell. "I don't understand. Everyone's been so nice to me today, and… it's all your fucking _fault_." My voice cracked at that last word. I hoped he didn't notice.

Cartman almost looked stunned. I still had him up against the wall, but he palmed my shoulder and easily pushed me away from him. " _Kyle_ , why don't you trust me?"

I swear, even if he was being genuine, I could never fucking tell because he always sounds so fucking sarcastic. "Is everything a fucking joke to you?!" I basically spit in his face, but I'd be lying if I said it wasn't satisfying. "You really don't know why I don't trust you? Maybe it's because of the fact that you've ripped on me for being Jewish our entire lives, and all you've ever done is made my life a living hell! _That's_ why I don't trust you!"

The corners of his mouth turned up in a subtle smile and he snorted at me in amusement. "Those are some people lame reasons not to trust someone who's been there for you through thick and thin."

My mouth almost dropped at this bewildering statement. Regardless, I was still ready to argue. "What'd you say—"

"Let me ask you something, Kyle," he interjected. "How do you feel?"

I squinted at him in disbelieve. So now he's trying to be my fucking therapist? "Uh, I don't know. Alright I guess." I tried to making my voice sound as callous as I could, although I'm not so sure that was even possible.

Cartman drew his hand to his chin, clearly deep in thought about _something_. "Hmm… okay. Are you happy?"

My eyes widened at that question. I couldn't help but let a hearty chuckle escape my throat. "Happy? What kind of question is that?"

The smile dropped from my face when I looked at his. His face was now hard as stone. "Okay. I'll say it again. Are you happy?"

I bit my lip. This line of inquiry was making me extremely uncomfortable and I had no idea why. They were just simple questions, after all. "Uh… I don't know. Today was pretty good, I guess. But I'm not happy, like, in general." I look down at my feet.

We stood there in silence for at least a good minute, until the final question was asked.

"Do you still want to kill yourself?"

My heart pounded. It resonated throughout my entire body, threatening to disorient me and push me into the mud. I was starting to get dizzy at the thought of answering this fucking question. I thought of their faces. My mom, Stan, even Wendy and Clyde. My stomach churned in horrible ways I never thought possible. What was this feeling? Whatever it was, I just wanted to escape it. I wanted to escape the pain. This was why I wanted to kill myself in the first place, and yet…

My eyes were burning. There were tears in them.

"I DON'T KNOW ANYMORE!" My legs gave out and I fell to my knees. I was sniveling like the fucking idiot I was. Finally, the truth was out, but I didn't feel any better. "I… I don't know anymore. I was so sure of myself and then… and then…"

"I tried to kill myself before too, you know."

I quickly glanced up at the figure in front of me. My eyes and nose were running like crazy and my face was red from crying, but in that moment I forgot all about it. "What…?"

"Actually, I tried a few times. More than I'd like to admit. It was so gay." Cartman closed his eyes and shook his head at the memory. "Once I tried to kill myself with carbon monoxide inhalation. I tried overdosing a few times. Hell, I even tried a noose once—that's how desperate I was. But you know who was there for me through it all, the person who got me out of that shitty place? My mom."

I immediately shook my head, knowing full well what this conversation was leading up to. "I could never tell my mom, or anyone in my family. They'd go absolutely insane."

Cartman shrugged and looked up at the sky. "Maybe that's true, but you have someone else. A certain someone who I'm assuming asked you over tonight, just like I knew he would."

My wet eyes glimmered from the light of the sun. "Stan?" There was hope in my voice, a characteristic I never thought I would possess again.

He looked back down at me with tears in his eyes. They weren't falling, but they were there, and he was smiling.

"Yeah, Stan." He reached his hand out to me and I accepted it, gathering myself up off the ground and steadying myself as best as I could. "You guys are like, brothers or whatever. He'll get it."

Then, I did something I never thought I would do in a million years. I hugged him. I hugged that son of a bitch. And he hugged me back. I could feel his tears falling now because they were staining my hoodie and seeping through my shirt. I didn't care though, because it was probably the same on his end.

After that, he made me promise I would try to get better. Reluctantly, I accepted. Once again, I asked him if he said anything to Stan, Wendy or Clyde. He said he didn't, but he did say he "worked his magic" with Stan and Wendy. Clyde was just a bonus; he said he wasn't expecting him to come over to the table and ask me to play with them. He added that I must really suck at basketball if it's taken Clyde this long to include me. I told him to shut up.

Nothing felt the same after that conversation, and I don't just mean with Cartman. The sun was brighter. The grass was greener. It was as if the universe had my wellbeing in mind and it was pushing me to stay alive. And at the end of the day, if my worst enemy cared enough about me to try and keep me alive, I guess the world wasn't such a bad place after all.


End file.
